Roses Are Red Dirty Poems For Him Novels & Stories

Rose is red My love is too. Red like your cheeks When you blush, when I stare at you. You don't know though Who I am. A lover, A stalker, An admirer. But I'll forever stay yours And you'll forever stay mine. Let God help them Whoever comes in between. Because I won't let them Steal my thing. Don't tell anyone about this, my love, Because then you will lose whomever you love. Your submission is what I want

My eyes roamed over them and I tried to count them, raising my finger to touch the one beside her cheek when her eyes suddenly flew open and I froze, my finger suspended in the air and my eyes widening at being caught. She blinked repeatedly, disoriented from sleep, then that beautiful smile graced her lips and my heart squeezed. “What are you doing?” she asked and her voice was hoarse from sleep and somehow even more beautiful and I felt my heart shimmer in my chest. God, she was so beautiful. I pulled my hand back bashfully and cleared my throat. “There was... dirt,” I trailed off lamely while placing my hands at my sides, feeling like an idiot. Rosie laughed, the sound soft and sleepy, th

He got me flowers with a note containing a poem; Plenty of apologies Plenty of kisses Too much love for you Many beautiful promises Lots of hugs Tender feelings so true I will do anything To make up to you I am sorry. It was such a corny poem that I smiled and rolled my eyes when I read it. I was reading it every now and then despite how corny it was. Femi was adorable that was for sure. Such a sweet guy. I had a feeling from the corniness of the poem that he didn’t know what to do with himself in this situation, hence the corniness.

His scent is so intoxicating. In the evening, Dante decided to go for a jog. It just finished raining so Dante thought the atmosphere was perfect for one. He jogged around the street for about twenty-five minutes before he came to a stop at a bus stop. He sat on the provided bench to rest. He was drinking water from a bottle when an expensive looking car approached. There was a puddle of water ahead and as the car sped across it, water splashed all over Dante. He got soaked in dirty rain water.

“You’re smart; think, Rose.” He says. Warnings? I start to think but nothing comes to mind. “The texts, Rose. The texts, I sent them.” He says calmly. .......... The texts that came from an unknown number. Of course! The ones that were all poetic, talking about dancing with devil. “But-“ I try to say but I don’t really know what to say. My thoughts are all jumbled. “Slow down, Rose. Don’t overthink, I will explain it all when we arrive.” He says.

We already knew the meaning of the first two lines, but the last two remain a mystery. “The poem says, ‘Rouge is replaced with white powder, a cluster of blossoms hidden from sight.’ We need to figure out what rouge, white powder, and blossoms represent to know what to do next. Think carefully. Did you see anything that might hint at this while searching for clues?” The thin guy’s eyes suddenly lit up. “I saw two painted doors on the fourth floor—one red and one pink. It found it strange at the time, but now that I think about it, it might be a hint.”

He kept on reciting those lovely words that I didn’t even once hear from the mouth of Richard. The people around us began to cheer loudly but still, I could only hear Denver’s beautiful words piercing in my soul—like an arrow in my lovesick, longing heart. "I promise you, no one will work harder to make you happy or cherish you more than me. When I think about you, I know that no one else will ever hold my heart the way you do. When I think of the future, I like to picture us as two roses planted side-by-side, our roots growing together more firmly as the years go by, and our children sprouting like the petals. Life offers many obstacles, there’s no doubt about that. I know I can meet them i

I instantly hope that they are from Ryne but I don’t want to assume. “Oh wow, thank you!” I smile smelling one of the flowers. Then I turn to Ronaldo who looks questionably at the flowers. I take them outside and he holds them as I look for the card. Then he hands them back to me. I opened the card smiling, and I read the message. Mierta Why have you not shown appreciation for My gifts. Maybe I need to explain… These red roses represent the blood on The bedsheets when I take your virginity Very soon, my sweet. I shall come for you

“Stop changing the topic.” “I’m not yet finished,” He tells me, removing himself from my hold. He wipes the dirt on his pants, and it leaves a dusty print. By default, I gag at the action. The dirt was appalling and looked older than Cinco itself. Who knew the germs and bacteria that grew on those walls and he wiped his finger on it? His finger that he would probably touch his face with later. Absolutely disgusting. “Sorry, forgot you were a lady. I got to remember not every girl’s like Thelma.”

Both are yours to keep. The next was softer. Romantic in my own kind of way. A blood-slick ear, still dripping when I placed it gently among a bed of deep red roses. The petals soaked up the blood, turning a deeper shade by the second. The note read: Your name is written in every death I cause. You can't wash it away.